Love is not a victory march
by Xendell
Summary: Reaper realizes that Widowmaker, like him, never asked for this. They are stranded together through a series of misfortune at the evening of one of their biggest missions yet. So he holds her tight when she comes apart, and doesn't admit to himself that he doesn't want to let go. Something fluffy where Reaper and Widowmaker actually care for one another, and Sombra is there too.


A/N: Here's a drabble to celebrate Sombra's release. I really wanted to write something with her since I (just like the rest of world) fell in love with her and the dynamic between Reaper and Widowmaker in Infiltration is just so good!

I promise I am working on the final chapter of The Demoted, it will take a little longer. Please be patient with me!

Apparently I get all my happiness in life by writing Reaper coffee scènes. ;) I was listening to Pentatonix's cover of Hallelujah while writing this, and imagined that to pop up on the radio, but you can substitute any song you find fitting.

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The night before a mission wasn't always tense, but this time it was. Months of preparation, all leading to this moment. Gabriel Reyes, now more often than not under the guise of Reaper, found himself restlessly pacing. Finally, he decided to cut himself some slack. He slammed the door to his quarters behind him, marching with large strides through the hallways of the Talon headquarters. He went over the mission details in his head, over and over, positions, possible emergency exits, he knew them all by heart. Volskaya industries held no secrets to him.

He rounded the corner to find himself in the staff kitchen, usually abandoned at this time of night. He flicked the switch, and a dim light on the ceiling sputtered, then slowly charged to full strength. He noticed a familiar face stir and blink against the light. Widowmaker sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

'Couldn't sleep?' Gabriel rasped. Widowmaker only nodded sharply in response, and blew impatiently at her coffee. He regarded her for a moment as he closed the door behind him. He'd found her here before at the most ungodly hours of night, so that wasn't all that unusual. It was something about her air tonight, that was off. He switched on the coffee machine and pulled a mug - black, as always - out of the cabinet. He heard her sigh as he waited for his coffee.

'Nervous?' He asked again. This time she shrugged, and answered, 'not really.'

He poured his coffee in silence. The smell of it, even though he could barely taste anything anymore these days, somehow reminded him of better times. He'd noticed Widowmaker being much the same; usually she'd just hold the mug close, cold hands clamped firmly around it, and let the steam warm her cheeks. On normal days they'd end up with two lukewarm, half-empty mugs of coffee. Now he saw her take gulps of the beverage as if she was trying to drown herself. Against better judgment, he picked up his own mug and joined Widowmaker on the couch.

'So what brings you here, then?' He set down the cup on the low coffee table in front of the old couch. The couch was a rare sight on the Talon base, probably looted from some mission, a homely old thing that felt strangely out of place in the industrial kitchen. An old travel radio lay discarded on the side of the coffee table.

'Nothing.' Widowmaker glared at him. Gabriel was not impressed.

'Are you okay?' He pressed, his tone softer, more gentle than before. She stared hard into her coffee, and sighed again.

'I really miss him,' Widowmaker finally whispered, barely lifting her face from her mug. 'Sometimes I just suddenly miss him so much, Gabriel.'

He did not know what to say to that. The first thing that came to mind was that with her reconditioning, it should be near impossible for her to still feel anything at all. However the technicalities of what had been done to her would not help either of them now. Something along the lines of "I'm sorry you killed your husband" also wouldn't quite do.

'That's..' Gabriel started, but then he sighed, shook his head, and took a long sip of his coffee. 'That's understandable,' he finally managed to say, and felt like that could have been worse. Widowmaker's shoulders sagged a little.

'I should probably go for reconditioning,' Widowmaker sighed. 'Tomorrow is the big day.'

'Hmm,' Gabriel heard himself answer, neither affirming nor denying her. He pursed his lips in thought, but didn't know how to continue. Eventually he just took another gulp of coffee. He felt for her, he really did, but none of his words would bring her husband back. Hell, even if he could, nothing would ever be the same. Gérard married a professional dancer, a girl, a civilian- what he'd find here, this augmented cold-blooded killer, was not his wife. Gabriel remembered he'd seen her transform from a broken woman to the living weapon she was today. He'd heard her crying at night, a long time ago.

'I'll do it right now,' Widowmaker decided, harshly setting down her cup. She got up from the couch in a fluid movement, and with two long strides she was at the door.

'Amélie!' he called out. She stopped dead in her tracks, slightly turning her head, but not looking at him. 'Wait,' he added. Her shoulders sagged even further as she waited for him to speak.

Gabriel felt like a fool. Truly. Fate had flung him here, somehow ending up half a man, half a ghost, with a mission to destroy all those who had wronged him. She had, like him, been condemned to this fate, had somehow ended up in a Talon staff kitchen at night. They shared a misfortune of considerable size, nothing else. Yet he felt more connected to her than anyone else, than any _thing_ else ever since he'd become half a wraith. She'd been the one grounding him, keeping him sane. And he'd do the same for her.

'Come here,' he said, picking up the radio and finding a reasonably clear channel. The sound had a scratchy quality to it, but it seemed fitting. Damaged, but persevering. 'Dance with me, Amélie.'

She exhaled more than sighed, and looked at him with a face full of disbelief. It was not until he reached out for her hand and pulled her close that her expression changed to one of surprise. He placed her hand on his shoulder, wrapped his own around her waist. He was no great dancer by any means, but he knew rhythm and good music. So when he lead to move her to the slow, soft tunes coming from the radio, she fell into step with him. They shuffled on the smooth kitchen tiles, moving smoothly to the music. Gabriel stepped back, a little awkwardly, and raised his arm to let Amélie twirl. She was all grace and when she fell back into his arms, he heard her chuckle under her breath.

'I haven't danced in... in forever,' she whispered in his ear, slowly relaxing into his embrace. He felt her arms sliding around his neck, and her cheek resting against his own.

'Neither have I,' he wrapped his arms around her tighter, making her feel his warmth, feet shuffling to the beat. They were simply swaying, following the music, as he lightly massaged the back of her head. He heard her sniffle into his neck, but decided to stay silent.

The door beeped once, purple light running through it like the branches of an electrical tree, before it swung open.

'Hey the door was locked are you guys in here- oh.' Sombra's purple eyes and bright smile dimmed a bit as she peeked around the doorframe. Gabriel lifted a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet, his other arm still firmly wrapped around Widowmaker.

'Who?' Widowmaker tried to turn her head to look, but immediately Gabriel hushed her, returning his hand to her hair.

'It's just Sombra,' he murmured. He nodded with his head towards the door, subtly gesturing for the intruder to leave them alone.

'Ah,' Widowmaker sighed again. Sombra's lips curled into a knowing, mischievous grin, her eyebrows raised smugly. She raised her hands, feigning innocence, and mouthed, 'Okay, okay.' Before she stepped out, she quickly snapped a picture. Gabriel heard her giggle in the hallway, and it took all his force of will not to roll his eyes and sigh deeply.

Amélie tightened her arms around him. He caressed her back.

'Shall I stay with you?' He whispered into her neck, and felt her nod slowly in response.

'Just one more song,' she answered timidly. His laugh bubbled deep in his chest, where laughter rarely reached.

'Alright,' he playfully swayed her back and forth, impossible, inescapable woman, and enjoyed the giggle that escaped her. 'Just one more song.'


End file.
